


All's well that ends well (to end up with you)

by weestarmeggie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eavesdropping, Explicit Language, F/M, Fake Dating, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Implied Sexual Content, Past Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, Past Infidelity, Post-War, The Wedding Date AU, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:14:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27051733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weestarmeggie/pseuds/weestarmeggie
Summary: Hermione Granger is all set to be the maid of honor at her best friends wedding. She is taken back when she finds out that the best man is none other than her ex-fiance.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 15
Kudos: 203
Collections: Dramione RomCom Fest





	All's well that ends well (to end up with you)

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [DramioneRomComFest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DramioneRomComFest) collection. 



> Thank you to [Dreams of Dramione](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bugggghead/pseuds/dreamsofdramione) for the beautiful manip and to [NuclearNik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuclearNik/works) for the beta and encouragement. A special thanks to her and [Quintalon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuinTalon) for hosting this fest. Enjoy.

* * *

“It’s sad, really, how much she's mooning over him, especially since he hasn't stopped staring at Pansy all night.” 

Hermione stopped and peered round the wine rack to see Ginny and Daphne reaching up for more wine and thought about how she couldn’t blame Neville for staring at Pansy all evening; she’d never seen her friend look happier. 

She took a step forward, fumbling to a stop when she heard Daphne say, “I know. I don't understand what Draco sees in her. He’s obviously smitten whilst she's flashing her cleavage in Potter’s direction every chance she gets.” Hermione’s stomach lurched. Daphne stepped back into her heels and met Ginny’s eye. “The poor girl needs to get a clue. Someone should put her out of her misery and tell her about Harry’s affair with Pansy—”

Hermione’s hand slipped from where she’d been gripping the rack and a bottle smashed as it rolled from the barrel she knocked into. She looked up to see both girls staring at her in shock; Hermione recognised the pity in Ginny’s eyes and swallowed hard. Standing tall, she turned on her heel, two bottles of wine grasped tightly in her fists as she sped along the corridor towards the stairs leading out of the cellar.

“Hermione, wait,” Ginny called after her. “You can’t—” Ginny’s hand wrapped around her wrist and Hermione glared at it until Ginny stepped back and released her, “—you can’t say anything.”

“Why not?!” 

Hermione took a step towards the redhead, her _friend,_ and wiped the tears from her eyes as she advanced on her. “Why shouldn’t I say anything?”

“Because it was a long time ago and because you’re not even together anymore. The only person you’re gonna hurt with this is Neville,” Ginny said quickly, revealing it all in one quick breath. “I know it feels—”

Hermione stepped back and glared at her friend once more before turning on her heel and beginning to climb the cellar stairs once more.

“You have no idea how I feel, Ginevra.”

“You’re with Malfoy now, Hermione.” Hermione stopped and peered back over her shoulder. Ginny was standing at the bottom of the stairs. “Why does it even matter what happened four years ago?” She continued. “It’s over. You’re happier than I ever saw you with Harry.” Ginevra climbed the bottom few steps and stared earnestly up at Hermione. “Just move on.”

Hermione shook her head in disbelief before she kept climbing. When she reached the top, she took a deep breath before quickly patting her cheeks and wiping her eyes once more. 

She could do this. 

She’d already been putting up with her ex-fiancé; it would be nothing to put up with the future Mrs Longbottom too. 

No matter how much she wanted to stab her in the face. Muggle violence was so common; Pansy would never be expecting it.

As she walked through the house, she thought about what Ginny had said. Maybe it _didn’t_ matter anymore because no matter _how_ she and Draco might have started this weekend off, there was no doubt in her mind—not after last night _and_ this morning—that what they had didn’t mean something to the both of them.

Stepping onto the patio, the wine clutched to her chest, Hermione blinked because almost everyone—aside from Pansy and Neville’s grandmothers who were still drinking their wine— had moved from the large dining table Frank and Alice had erected and were instead standing at the steps. Some of them shouting and others gasping in shock, and when Hermione slipped between the crowd it took her a few seconds to realise they were watching a fight and that it was Draco and Harry brawling like drunk and rowdy teenagers rather than the mature wizards she knew them to be. Neville caught her arm and pulled her back when she moved to intervene, placing her between him and Ron. Hermione turned to glare at him only to be immediately disarmed by the fact that he was grinning at her.

“Just let them have it out,” he said. “They’ve been building to this since we left school.” 

Hermione grumbled but said nothing else.

She wasn't even sure she’d known Draco knew how to fight with his fists but as he punched Harry squarely in the jaw, she couldn't help but clench her thighs; the feral look on his face was _familiar._

“Ron,” she said, nudging her friend as Draco and Harry circled each other, each occasionally feigning a punch, “do something.”

“Why?” he asked, laughing. He lifted his beer to his mouth and said, “This is hilarious.”

Hermione huffed but when Harry knocked Draco flat on his back, she finally wiggled free of Neville’s grasp—who took the opportunity to grab another beer—and stepped between them.

“Enough! Christ, Harry,” Hermione said, shoving him back from where he was advancing on Draco. She dropped to her haunches beside him, flicking the skirt of her dress over her bare thighs. “What the fuck?”

“What the fuck is right,” Harry said. 

Hermione ignored him and stroked her hand over Draco’s face, thumb catching on his bloodied lip. 

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly, ignoring the way everyone was staring at them. 

Draco nodded, catching her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “I’m fine. Listen, Granger—”

“Did you know?” Harry interrupted, and Hermione dragged her eyes away from Draco to glare at her ex.

“What?” 

She helped Draco to his feet and leaned into him when he wrapped his arm around her waist even though _he_ was the injured one. “Did I know what, Harry?”

“About this.” His hand slipped into his pocket, and Hermione’s heart dropped into her stomach as he unfolded the very same article from _La Sorcière et L'Assistant Modernes_ that Hermione had used to find Draco. 

She quickly schooled her face and bit the inside of her cheek as she took the piece of paper he had thrust in her direction. Her eyes quickly flicked over it but she didn't need to read it; she already knew what it said. 

She met Harry’s stare once more and feigned ignorance as best she knew how. “What am I supposed to be looking at?”

“Oh, cut the bullshit, Hermione.” He jerked his head and folded his arms across his chest. “I know you.”

Goosebumps erupted along her bare arms, her magic surfacing and shimmering on her skin. “You know me?” she asked, incredulous at his audacity. She scrunched the paper and burned it in her palm with a single flash of blue flame; the ash fell to the ground beneath them. “Is that why you betrayed me?” Draco’s hand squeezed at her waist but Hermione ignored him, stepping forward to poke Harry in the chest with one long finger instead. “Took advantage of how much I loved you?”

“Hermione, please—” Draco began, fingers clenching at her wrist. 

“That doesn’t matter,” Harry said, and Hermione reared back in shock. _How dare he? “_ What matters is that he’s been lying to you. He’s an—”

“No,” Hermione said, shaking her arm loose of Draco’s grasp, looking between the two men. “You’re the one who’s been lying to me. I want to know. I want to know what I did to deserve that.”

“You told her?!”

Hermione looked up to see Pansy glaring—past Hermione, past Harry, and right at Draco. 

Hermione's head spun as she looked between them and try as she might, she couldn’t help the tears that began to spill down her cheeks as she looked at Draco, who was staring steadily at the ground.

“You knew?” she said, voice barely a whisper as she stared in disbelief.

His head lifted, guilt written plainly across his face as he winced. 

Hermione watched him scrub one hand over his tired face—hands that had held her only hours ago; skimmed her body as she and Draco had made numerous promises to one another—and bit back a sob as he nodded and said, “Yeah.”

Hermione turned and watched half a dozen of her _friends_ turn away from her in shame. She shook her head. “I can’t believe all of you would keep this from me,” she said quietly.

Neville reappeared, smiling widely with a beer in hand. And as he wrapped his free arm around Pansy’s waist and asked, “What did I miss?” Hermione knew he had no idea what had been going on. Though at least he and Pansy had gotten together after Harry had called off his engagement to Hermione.

Hermione shook her head and pressed the two bottles of wine she still had into Pansy’s hands with a quiet, “Nothing, Neville. I hope you’ll be very happy together. I have to go,” and slipped back through the open patio doors and away from the party.

She never should have come. She’d known that seeing Harry would be hard but Hannah’s reasoning had been hard to argue with and then when she’d made contact with Draco, asked him to come as her _boyfriend_ , he’d done nothing but convince her it was the right thing to do. 

Hermione scoffed; Hannah hadn't come to see her ex-fiancé but she’d certainly encouraged Hermione to face her own, all with a smirk on her face; Hermione should have known better.

“ _Just call this number, Hermione_ ,” she muttered as she stomped through Longbottom Manor and towards the receiving room. “ _It will be fine, Hermione. Show up with Malfoy, remind Harry what he lost out on and have a fun weekend_ ,” she mocked. “ _Just because you’re paying him doesn’t mean you have to fuck him_.” She barked a laugh and stopped, pulling one stiletto off, then the other. “Good job on that front Hermione.” 

“Granger.”

She glanced behind her, Draco’s voice getting closer, and quickened her pace; she clutched her heels to her chest as she darted towards the receiving room.

The footsteps behind her quickened too, and she sprinted into a run. 

Fuck him if he thought he was going to corner her. 

“Granger, wait.”

Hermione whipped her wand from its disillusioned place on her forearm and pointed at him, fist wrapped firmly around the piece of vine.

“How long—”

“Granger.”

“How long, Malfoy?”

Malfoy lifted his hands in surrender and, eyes darting between Hermione's face and her wand, flicked his tongue over his lips as he said, “I found out last night. When I caught—”

“You caught _them together_?” Hermione’s voice sounded high, even to her.

Malfoy’s face scrunched up in disgust. 

“Merlin, no, I just caught them arguing.” He took a tentative step towards her, nudging her wand down in the process. 

Hermione let her arm fall before she quickly wrapped both of them around her bare shoulders. Tears filled her eyes as she looked away.

“Everyone’s probably spent the past few years _laughing_ at me.”

“Don’t be silly.”

She snorted, dropping her head back as she blinked back tears and let Draco take one of her hands. He pressed a chaste kiss to her knuckles and led her to the chaise by the window.

“Granger. Hermione,” he tried instead. 

Hermione turned her head towards him but only stared at the way his fingers had laced through hers.

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

Hermione shrugged, dragging her hands from his and folding them in her lap. “It’s not your fault.”

“I should have told you.”

Footsteps echoed outside the door, and Hermione’s eyes darted between it and the fireplace. 

“Do you want to leave?” Draco asked.

“I can’t stay here. I can’t be part of this charade.”

“I can send you through to mine and stay here to collect your things if you want? Bring them over?”

Her eyes flicked to his. “Not the Manor right?”

He shook his head, pulling her to her feet and towards the fireplace. “No, Granger, not the Manor.”

“Okay then. Thank you.”

He helped her step into the grate, though his fingers squeezed her own tight before he dropped the Floo powder to her feet and disappeared from her view.

She appeared in his living room and stumbled from the grate towards the drinks trolley in the corner. Dropping her stilettos at the end of the couch, she fell onto the sofa and lay back, only occasionally lifting her head to sip at the drink hovering at her side.

She was playing with her flames—spinning them between her fingers—when Draco stepped through the Floo. 

Hermione watched absently as he sent her bags _somewhere_ and his robes to the coat rack she could see from her position on the couch.

She jolted as his fingers stroked through her hair suddenly. Turning her head, she found him crouched down beside her, eyes flicking over her face. ”Are you okay?” 

She nodded and cleared her throat, pulling herself into a seated position. “I’m fine.” She tugged him onto the sofa beside her and hesitantly laced her fingers through his. When she looked up at him he was staring at what she’d done, smirking. 

The prick.

“Listen, Granger, about before. I wanted to tell you but—”

“It’s fine.” She met his eyes. “Really. I wish It hadn't happened. I wish I hadn’t found out but I—” She broke off and swallowed. “I should apologise to you. For using you.”

Draco snorted and pushed her back onto the sofa. Her legs fell open, and he easily fit between the cradle of her thighs as he hovered over her, arms bracketing her head. 

“Oh, Granger. You didn’t use me. And even if you had—” his nose nudged along the curve of her jaw and pulled back “—I thoroughly enjoyed it.”

Hermione’s tongue flicked over her dry lips as she stared up at him. “That’s good.”

“Brightest witch of her age,” he said, amusement evident in his voice. His hands were trailing up her bare leg; up and under the skirt of her dress till he was holding her down by the hips, thumbs hooked into her underwear. 

Hermione could barely think and bit at her lip, resisting the urge to smirk as he lowered his lips to hers and said, “Reduced to the word, _good_.”


End file.
